Dark Abyss
by Nytewing
Summary: When Huckleberry Finn died Thomas Sawyer thought he had nothing left to lose...
1. Chapter 1

_Hello good readers, I am Nytewing and this is my first LXG fic so while I do wish you to be completely honest in any and all reviews I would appreciate that there be no flaming. If you have a problem with me or my writing and cannot be bothered to be civil you can, for lack of a better phrase, stuff it._

Disclaimer: I don't not now nor will I ever in the foreseeable future own the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, much as I do want Tom and/or Skinner.

Without further ado I present...

_**Abyss**_

_Becky, _his ravaged mind whimpered, _My sweet Becky..._ He had given up fighting the tears long ago and he felt their saltiness as they coursed down his cheeks. He saw people glance his way and wished that he could leave, but his loyalty to his lifelong friend and one time love stopped him.

Thomas Sawyer watched in horror as the plain casket was lowered into the ground in front of him. It was suddenly so very final both of his best friends were dead and he felt like he was drowning. Tom held back the sob that threatened to burst forth from his chest, it would not do to lose all composure, especially in front of Mr. Dean Rivers the man he would be going to see as soon as this dreadful service was over.

When the casket hit bottom Tom stood up and tossed a small handful of dirt on top, just as he had done for Huck only a week ago. Vaguely he saw three other people do the same before he turned and walked away wiping the tears from his face.

"Tom!" an ancient voice called forcing him to stop, if only long enough for his Aunt Polly, who was defiantly getting on in years, to catch up.

"Hi Aunt Polly," he said, his voice dead, "Did you need something before I go to see Mr. Rivers?"

She sighed sadly, it tore the old woman up to see the boy she had raised reduced to such a sad state, it had been so hard on him to lose the man who was, in everything but blood, his brother and the loss of his childhood sweetheart and dear friend Becky Thatcher would only make matters worse. "Yes Thomas," Tom winced, Aunt Polly was the only person on earth who still called him Thomas, "I spoke to Mr. Rivers, you don't need to go see him. I have everything worked out."

Tom looked up almost hopefully, "And?" he asked a slight tinge of emotion entering is voice for the first time since the night two days ago when Becky had died.

Aunt Polly smiled, happy to give her boy good news, "There is no need to worry, Mr. Rivers says that as long as your job does not interfere and the boy is given a proper education there is no reason for you to not be given custody. 'Specially because sweet Miss Becky asked for that in her will."

Tom's eyes misted up a little at the mention of Becky but at that moment he vowed that he was done crying, having just been granted custody of Becky Thatcher and Huckleberry Finn's one and only child he had to be strong.

"Good," he managed to keep his voice steady as he spoke, "When can I get him?"

"Right now, if it works for you..." She sighed, knowing that Tom would want to get the boy and leave as soon as possible, it was plain as day that the place held too many painful memories for him to stay right now. He would probably be heading off with the group of oddities who were currently bunked at Aunt Polly's house. Tom had requested that they not attend the funeral and Aunt Polly understood, it had been an affair of family only five or six people showing up and as she looked around now she confirmed the fact that they had left quickly after the final prayers. It was just so wrong to be standing next to the grave of someone they had all thought would live to be as old as Aunt Polly herself and beyond.

Tom nodded, "Good, I collect him and we'll go back to your house. Nemo wants to leave tomorrow." Nemo wanted no such thing, he had actually said that the League would stay for as long as Tom wanted but it was the best lie Tom could come up with and not hurt Aunt Polly's feelings. Aunt Polly nodded as well.

"Alright, you two head back I am going to stop by Mrs. Thatcher's to give her my condolences before I come home," she smiled as warmly as she could manage at Tom, "You know Thomas, I am more proud of you than I ever have been for you doing this for the poor lad, I'm sure your parents would be too."

Tom bowed his head, "I just don't want another boy to grow up with out his parents, I mean you were great Aunt Polly...I just want to be what you were to me to him. Does that make sense?"

She smiled and patted his arm, "Perfect." Then she was walking slowly off, speed hampered bye advanced age and bad knees. Tom watched her go fondly before turning back to the one sight he did not want to see.

A small boy of about ten years stood staring at a fresh grave, his hands were in his pockets and his ragged shirt hung slightly in and out of his waist band, there was a decent jacket on the ground behind him. He hated dressing up just as much as Tom and Huck had when they were his age, the fact made Tom almost want to laugh, almost.

Tom walked up behind the boy and followed his gaze to the new headstone that said;

Huckleberry Finn

1883-1899

Husband, Father, Best Friend, Hero

"Always Free"

"Does the hurt ever go away?" the boy asked quietly and tom was struck by how much the child looked like his late father, a carbon copy really of what Huck had looked like at that age. There were even the tell tale scrapes and scratches from adventures in the woods and along the river.

"I don't rightfully know," Tom answered, " I never knew my parents, but yer dad was my best friend, more like family than anything. I can't say I know how you feel but, I can be here if you ever want to talk." The speech sounded so much more sure than Tom really felt and he wanted to take it back immediately, however when he saw that it had lifted the boy's spirits slightly he choked back his words.

"Thanks Tom," he said then, with a small whimper he continued in a tiny voice, "Do you- Do you know what is going to happen to me?"

"You mean they didn't tell you!" Tom exclaimed suddenly furious at the people who had deemed it unnecessary to tell the boy of his fate, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself, it would not do to snap at the child. His voice was carefully controlled when he finally spoke, "You're coming with me kid, I'm going to take care of you." The child face was visibly relieved so Tom threw one arm over his shoulder and said, "Why don't we get home, huh? It's getting kinda chilly." The boy nodded and with a final whispered goodbye to both his parents allowed Tom to steer him from the graveyard.

Neither was aware that a pair of very invisible eyes watched from not five yards away and heard every word. When they turned to leave Rodney Skinner, gentleman thief hurried ahead to spread the word, there was to a be a child on the Nautilus!

_As I wrote this I realized that I am deviating from both the movie and the books when I say the ages, but it cannot be helped, and this being fan fiction I am allowed to take those liberties, no? So, in this Tom is 22, Huck was 26 (yes I know he is a lot older but, if he was only 22 the he would have been a father at twelve, early even for this time period) and Becky was 24, so she was a mother at 14, young yes, but only about a year younger than other girls of this age. I also realize that Tom is not younger than his friends in the books, but this sets up a nice brotherly relationship between he and Huck and the two years really isn't all too much between he and Becky, especially as she always thought him immature anyway._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello all! I trust that you have all survived the first days back in the prison we are forced to call school? If you are a teacher, I mean, hope you all had a great first few days of school! Unfortunately the first week being over does not mean we get to go back to summer and this coupled with the onslaught of the IB program means that updates will be come less frequently and more sporadically than they already do. _

_I do not own Tom Sawyer. sniff I do however own the kid._

_hmmm-well i wrote this a long time ago, but, due to computer issues I could noy up load it, terribly sorry for the long wait... _

Skinner hurried back to the house where Tom had arranged for the League to stay with his news. It wasn't often that Quatermain asked him to use his powers to spy on other league members and he had never gotten so juicy a piece of information before. For brief moment he considered the fact that Tom obviously did not want them to know why he had so suddenly needed to go to America and his hometown, then his thief's lack of a conscience appeared and he decided that if the secret service agent had been honest in the first place he could have been the one to tell.

"I know something you don't know!" he sang as he walked into the small parlor where the league sat waiting for both the return of him and their youngest member. As he walked he pulled on his jacket and began applying his standard coat of grease paint.

He grinned broadly, aware that they could now see him, when Quatermain growled impatiently.

"Well?" the old adventurer asked the impatience showing in his voice as well.

"Well what?" Skinner was taking great joy in his little game and did not want it to end quite yet. His fun however came to an abrupt close when Wilhelmina Harker stood up with her characteristic grace and walked over to him. She ran one hand lightly down his arm.

"Now, Mr. Skinner," she said just loud enough for his ears only, "You might want to cut the games and tell us what you found, or I might be making a visit to your room next time I am hungry." Skinner gulped and one gloved hand found its way to his throat.

"That I'll do Miss Harker," he didn't even try to pinch her bottom as she nodded and walked back to where she had previously been seated.

He cleared his throat and began to tell them what he had seen but when he opened his mouth to speak the words would not come; it seemed he had a conscious after all. After a few moments he gathered his suddenly scrambled thoughts enough to speak.

"I-I can't," he whispered hoarsely.

Tom watched the boy as they walked along the banks of the Mississippi River; he had been talking about his childhood with Huck and generally just trying to make the lad laugh. It hurt more than Tom could say to see the face he was so used to always smiling so depressed.

"Then we rescued Jim the _proper_ way and after a few more adventures your dad and I got back home where your mother was waiting to slap you dad for making her worry again," Tom chuckled a little to himself at the memory but the boy didn't crack a smile. Tom sighed, looking at the sad young face, he had been around for as much of the boy's life as Huck and Becky and often felt like a third parent (which, he reflected sadly, he now was) and it hurt to see him like this. After a long silence Tom spoke again, "Look, I know I can't replace your mom and dad, hell I never want to, but, I can be you friend. You can talk to me any time you need to." The kid nodded.

"I know, Uncle Tom," he whispered, and then in a quick change of subject, "When are we leaving?"

Tom smiled; the kid was just like his dad, always avoiding the bad stuff, 'as soon as you want to, kiddo."

"Good," the boy glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the graveyard, "I want to go."

Tom threw his arm around the boy's shoulders, "Then we can leave tomorrow."

Thirty minutes later Skinner watched as Tom strolled into the parlor of his Aunt Sally's house, hands in his pockets and eyes cast down. Now that he knew what to look for Skinner could see the tell tale signs of Tom's hidden pain, there were dark circles under his eyes and his shoulder slumped in a way that suggested he was only barely holding himself together. Skinner stood, walked over to Tom, and, not caring that the others could see, pulled the young man into a tight hug. To his immense surprise Tom hugged him back, "You were there?" he whispered knowingly having figured that Quatermain would not be able to live without an explanation for their sudden trip to America and for the rest of the leagues being confined to the house for a day, again, with no explanation.

"Yea, but, I didn't tell him mate," Skinner replied pulling back and looking Tom in the eyes, he did not like what he saw before Tom looked away. The young spy's eyes broad casted a level of pain that no one should ever have to endure. "Are you okay?"

Tom managed a tight smile, "Perfectly alright," he turned to the rest of the league and before they could ask questions he spoke, "Sorry you fellas and lady had to stay here, but, I had some business to take care of." His tone of voice left no room for questions. "I picked up another passenger for you Captain."

Nemo raised one delicate eyebrow, "Oh," he said sagely, "Who might that be?"

Tom leaned back to look down the hallway and twitched one finger. The child walked slowly into the room, eyes cast down and shoulders tense.

"This is Thomas Jim Huckleberry Finn," Tom said with a small, sad smile at the memories the name evoked.


End file.
